The Secret Diary of Marcus Kane Aged 40-Something
by Isolation Shepherd
Summary: These rare and valuable diaries were found during an archaeological dig of a site known as Arkadia in historical times, and are two hundred years old. The data pad on which they were written took five years to restore and the Washington Area Society of Historians (WASH) is still in the process of deciphering the data.
1. Jan 1st 2148 to April 1st 2148

**Foreword**

These rare and valuable diaries were found during an archaeological dig of a site known as Arkadia in historical times, and are two hundred years old. The data pad on which they were written took five years to restore and the Washington Area Society of Historians (WASH) is still in the process of deciphering the data. The diaries represent such an important insight into the survivors of the Apocalypse and Prime Fire, our ancestors, that we are releasing them to the general public as soon as they are deciphered and rendered into a readable condition. There appear to be at least five volumes of the diaries, beginning with the Ark Diaries which detail life on board the Ark before it came to Earth, and cover the year 2148 to 2149. Little is known about the author, Marcus Kane, as so few historical records exist from that time, which is why the discovery of the diaries was an exciting event of great historical significance. You can follow the diaries online at /users/IsolationShepherd and

 **The Secret Diary of Marcus Kane Aged 40-Something**

 **Volume I The Ark Diaries**

January 1st 2148

Sinclair dragged me out to a New Year's Eve party on Mecha Station last night. I knew I would regret going and so it proved. I drank too much whisky, way too much, and I can barely remember a thing before waking up in Earth Monitoring Station slumped over the console with my face pressed against the screen and my saliva smeared somewhere over the east coast of the former United States of America. My head is thumping louder than that awful rap music Sinclair likes to listen to and my mouth is so rough I could smooth the edges off a steel cable with my tongue. What a way to start 2148! Also, I think I had to kiss Abby Griffin in a game of spin the oxygen canister and the worst thing about that is I can't remember what it was like.

I'm not one for New Year's Resolutions normally but I think this new year requires a new start. So, here's my list.

No more whisky. Ever. Even if Thelonious cracks open that 100-year-old scotch he thinks no one knows about.

Try to get on better with Abby. Yes, she's pompous and annoying and always thinks she's right even when she so clearly isn't but she has a good brain. She thinks differently and that could be useful.

Don't kiss Abby again. Especially not in front of Jake. Or anybody. Even if it's a game.

Try and get a date with Callie Cartwig. She told Sinclair she likes a man in black, so there's an opportunity there. Be bold.

Be more lenient with the young people. They're idiots, but they know not what they do half the time. Cut them some slack as the kids say.

Update the diary every day. It relieves the tension and helps clean the slate ready for a new start the following day.

March 3rd 2148

It's been a while. This is a quick update because I'm heading out for a date with Callie. Not that one can really "go out" on the Ark, just swap one grey-walled room for another, but still, it's better than the monastic life I've led for the past few months (okay years, but let's not dwell on that). The Ark cinema is showing a 2001 retrospective this month so we're going to watch Y Tu Mama Tambien. I am slightly disappointed because I wanted to watch Black Hawk Down but Cece was talking about seeing Bridget Jones' Diary! I'd rather pull my fingernails out with my teeth than watch Bridget Jones so I hope we've reached an adequate compromise. Time will tell.

 _Later_

The film was good. Very sexy in places. I managed to persuade Cece to come back for a nightcap and discuss the insights into society and relationships the film exposes. It may have been set 147 years ago but life in the Ark hasn't changed much in the last century or so. The film is still relevant. She's in the living area pouring a whisky. I'll update again later.

 _Much later_

;)

April 1st 2148

Today is April Fool's Day in some cultures and I'm afraid to say Abby Griffin got the better of me. My defences were down because Cece and I are still in the shag-every-moment-you-can phase of our relationship and I'm tired all the time. Abby knows this because she and Cece are best friends and women talk about the most intimate things. I've banned Cece from telling Abby the details of our sex life but I'm pretty sure the good doctor will have wheedled some information out of her. Why can't women be more like men? Sinclair found out the other day and he said "you and Cece, eh?" I nodded. He nodded. That was the end of that. No further words needed.

The day started out like any other. We had a Council meeting and my proposal to increase the number of guards in Lockup was being debated. I knew I had Cole, Kaplan and Muir on my side because I'd spent a considerable amount of time persuading them earlier this week. Cole is a sly old bastard. Cost me two packets of hair gel to get him on board. He won't even use them because he's balder than a turkey at Thanksgiving; he'll just sell them back to Nygel for an inflated price. He says it's not a bribe, just the cost of doing business but I know it is and it makes me feel dirty afterwards. If I don't give him what he wants he'll vote against me every time just out of spite. Come to think of it, maybe he's jealous of my hair and that's why he always asks for the gel? Anyway.

The proposal had been read and Jaha asked if there were any questions before putting it to the vote. One small hand shot up and I don't have to tell you to whom it belonged.

"I do have a question, actually, Thelonious," Abby said.

She turned those fiery brown eyes on me and I knew I was in for trouble.

"Councillor Kane. Your proposal is vague on where these extra guards will come from. I assume you haven't been training a secret army up there on Prison Station?"

I gave her my most patronising smirk because it drives her nuts to be looked down on.

"Come now, Abby. I'm sure if I were doing such a thing you'd be the first to know about it. You're always so well-informed."

She narrowed her eyes but wasn't to be deflected.

"You state you need five more guards to cover your proposed extension to the prison. If you're not training new guards, then the only way to get them is to remove them from duties elsewhere. Is that your proposal?"

Trust Abby to get to the core of the matter. That mind of hers is like a steel trap. If she didn't have such a soft spot for delinquents and trouble-makers she'd have taken over the Ark by now.

"Of course the guards will have to come from elsewhere on the Ark. I didn't think that needed spelling out."

Jaha butted in at this stage. "Now hang on, Kane. Perhaps we are being too hasty. I can't think of any area of the Ark that can spare the guards. Where ARE they going to come from?"

"He's going to take them from your security detail, Thelonious." Abby sat back in her chair, arms folded across her chest and smiled at me in a way that was smug and triumphant. It was so annoying it was all I could do to hold myself still and not leap across the table and strangle her. Not that I'd ever physically hurt her but she always provokes such a strong reaction in me. I don't know what it is about her, she just rubs me up the wrong way (she'll certainly never rub me up the right way!).

"Some of the guards will have to come from your security, Thelonious, yes. Two perhaps, maybe three. I myself will give up one of my guards and I thought perhaps Doctor Griffin could spare one from the medical wing?" I hadn't proposed to lose one of my guards or one from Medical but the idea came to me on the spot and seemed like a good one at the time. That was a mistake.

"How kind of you to offer one of your own guards, Kane," Abby said in a voice dripping with so much sarcasm I worried she would cause a flood. "However, it seems to me that losing two or three guards would leave the Chancellor extremely vulnerable." She looked straight at me, challenge in her eyes and her voice. "There are plots against the Chancellor every day, and who knows how many traitors in our midst."

I swear she looks at me and it's like I'm made of glass, only it's that special glass you get in shower cubicles that distorts the view. Abby thinks she sees me, but she doesn't. You can't tell her that, though, because she's never wrong and if she sees it, then it must be true. Frankly most of the time I don't care what she thinks, except when it interferes with my plans, or when she accuses me of crimes of which I am not guilty.

"The Chancellor's safety is my number one priority, Abby, as you well know. The fact is we need to increase the number of cells available in the Sky Box. So many of the young people are out of control. I have been over the figures and this is the only way to make that happen."

"I have to question that you have the Chancellor's best interests at heart because this proposal of yours seems to indicate the opposite. Without adequate security, it would be difficult to fight against a coup, for example."

"Abby's right, Kane," said Jaha before I could counter her outrageous accusation. "We can't risk it. A coup against the Chancellor and the Council would bring chaos to the Ark. I don't think I can support your proposal unless you can find another way to increase security."

"We can train more guards but that will take time, which we don't have." I knew I'd lost the argument. I wasn't fully prepared because I'd written the report in haste at three in the morning after a particularly arduous session in bed with Cece and I was so damned tired all the time I couldn't think straight.

I slumped in my chair, the fight having gone out of me, almost. "I'll look at the report again, but I would like it on record that Doctor Griffin's thinly veiled accusation that I am plotting against this Council is untrue and I resent it."

"I apologise to Councillor Kane if that was the impression I gave. I'm sure the Chancellor's safety is all he thinks about." She stared at me and I stared back. I wanted to smile to be honest because that was the snidest apology she'd ever given and I admired the chutzpah of it. I wasn't going to give her that satisfaction, though. Jaha withdrew the proposal from the vote and ended the meeting. I left before Abby had a chance to collar me and gloat.

So, that is how Abby got the better of me today. Cece is coming over later and I'm going to have to tell her we need to slow it down. I need my wits about me and this near-constant sex is putting me off my game. She's not going to like it and neither do I but we have to be strong. I need a whisky.


	2. April 17th 2148 to April 18th 2148

April 17th 2148

Today is my birthday. I'm 41. Can't say it bothers me too much. I wouldn't even celebrate it but Cece is insisting that we do something. I think we're going to watch a film and then go to the Mess to have what passes for a special meal in this place. I can't even think what that would be. Two hard biscuits instead of one, maybe? Can hardly wait. Oh, I hope she hasn't invited my mother.

 _Later_

Woops. Stylus isnt working. Is it? Cant see proply. Something wrong with the screen its all blurred. Ill just type and hope

for the best. So tonight was a double date with Jake and Abby. Awkward. Abby had her hair down. Softened her a bit. Not the eyes though. Sharp as ever. Cutting me from across the table. Chopped me up into little pieces until I was nothing. It made me hot, and shiver, which is weird. Hot shoudlnt be cold. I hope noone ever finds this dairy. Abby is oh Ceces here.

April 18th 2148

Abby had her hair down. Softened her a bit. Not the eyes though. Sharp as ever. Cutting me from across the table. Chopped me up into little pieces until I was nothing. It made me hot, and shiver, which is weird. Hot shoudlnt be cold. I hope noone ever finds this dairy. Abby is oh Ceces here.

There are reasons why I don't celebrate anything ever and last night was all of them. We did go and see a film and it was Black Hawk Down which I thought was good of Cece because she didn't want to see it last time but she knew I did. What was not so good was she'd invited Jake and Abby. Jake and I have been friends a long time. Even after he married Abby. He's very impulsive and he used to get me into a lot of trouble when we were young. He has a quick brain, though. Very quick. He makes connections where no one else thinks any exist. He's visionary and I've always liked that about him. Him I was happy to see but Abby still thinks I'm plotting to overthrow Jaha and she doesn't have a poker face. Her contempt for me exudes from every pore.

I had to sit next to her in the screening room because Cece likes the aisle seat and Jake had already gone along the row first. It's cramped in that room, and hot. We don't show films that often because we're conserving resources but people need entertainment. It helps keep them happy and happy people are obedient people. So, there's usually a lot of Arkers jammed into the room. Abby's arm was touching mine. She tried to pull it close into her body but short of tearing it off there was only so much she could do to keep away from me and contact was inevitable. I'll admit I spread out a bit more than was necessary just to annoy her. She wasn't wearing a jacket and she had on a blue v-necked shirt with short sleeves. Her skin was warm where it touched mine and we were sticking together in the heat. The top was low-cut and a few beads of sweat were gathering in her cleavage. I could see them out of the corner of my eye. They were fascinating and I don't know why. Much more interesting than the film we were about to watch. I didn't want her to see me looking because whatever else she thinks of me I'm not that type of man, but somehow the glimpses were more tantalising than if I'd been able to stare right at her. Then the lights dimmed and I couldn't see her anymore, just feel the heat of her. It was all most disturbing.

After that experience, there was only one way to get through the evening and that was to drink. Cece had obtained some moonshine and we sneaked it into our cups at the dinner table like we were teenagers again. I thought the drink might loosen Abby up but she was still cold with me, in contrast to when she was talking to Jake and Cece. A few drinks in and she'd stopped even pretending to speak to me and just stared, her eyes flaying me like I was a piece of meat to be chopped up and fed to stray cats, not that such creatures exist on the Ark but you know what I mean.

I was drunk enough by then to risk a comment.

"What's so fascinating?"

She frowned. "Pardon?"

"You've been staring at me for about five minutes. I'm wondering what it is about me that is so interesting to you?"

She looked around. Jake and Cece were busy talking and weren't paying us any attention.

"Don't flatter yourself. I wasn't staring at you."

"C'mon, Abby. Lying doesn't suit you."

She sighed. "What are you up to, Kane? I know you're up to something. I just don't know what it is yet."

"I'm not up to anything, Abby. I don't know how I can convince you of that."

"You don't like Thelonious, I can tell that."

"That doesn't mean I want to overthrow him! I think he's weak, yes. At the moment, while everything is stable, that doesn't matter too much. But what if things change? What if there's a crisis? I don't think he is the man to lead us through."

"And you are?"

"No. I don't know." And that is the truth. It's not so much that I want to be Chancellor or that I think I can do a better job, it's more that I don't think Jaha is the right man and he's doing a poor job. If I don't step in, who will? Abby? She's too emotional; doesn't have the strength to do what must be done.

"You're too hard for the job of Chancellor. You have no compassion. People mean nothing to you."

"Saving the human race doesn't need compassion, it needs action, hard decision-making."

"You would think that, and that's precisely why you would be a lousy Chancellor. You can't see it, can you?" Her voice was louder now, and Jake and Cece turned to look at us.

"I can see that you are displaying the kind of behaviour that would have us all dead within a week if you were Chancellor. Emotional outbursts achieve nothing."

She didn't like that. She glowered at me and bit the corner of her lower lip to try and hold her words in. She thinks she's clinical and calm under stress which I'll admit she can be, but she's also hot-headed and excitable and the Chancellor's job requires a cool head and emotional detachment. I decided to push the point home.

"You're too trusting to be able to make an objective decision about people. It's not a good quality for a Chancellor or a member of the Council." That last part was mean, in retrospect, but as I said earlier, that's what she brings out in me.

She pushed her chair back and leaned over the table towards me. It would have been intimidating if she weren't wearing that shirt I mentioned earlier. It was my turn to bite my lip.

"I don't trust YOU." Her words were literally spat out; I could feel droplets land on my hand. "What does that tell you about my ability to be objective?"

I didn't get a chance to respond because Jake intervened, putting his hand on Abby's arm to calm her.

"Everything alright you two?"

Jake's touch did seem to have an effect; it was always like that with those two. When she next spoke, her voice was quieter, addressed to him alone. "Actually, I'm feeling tired. I think we should go home."

I stood up to shake hands with Jake and as Abby turned to go I grabbed her arm.

"You're wrong about me, and one day you'll see that I was right."

She pulled her arm away as though my touch was like a hot poker to her skin.

"I doubt that," she hissed, and then she followed Jake out of the Mess hall, pausing at the door to look over her shoulder at us and then she was gone.

"Well, that was a great birthday," I said to Cece, which was unfair of me considering it wasn't her fault Abby hated me. My actions a long time ago are mostly responsible for that. It was her fault that we were out together in the first place, though, so I felt justified in laying some of the blame on her. After that we drank some more and when we got home I made that drunken diary entry which I have hopefully deleted. Another year of my life is over. What will the coming year bring?


	3. April 24th 2148 to May 1st 2148

April 24th 2148

Cece has gone cold on me. She took the suggestion that we cool our relationship literally and is now as freezing as maintenance bay when Sinclair is running tests on zero G equipment. I haven't seen her since the day after my disastrous birthday when I told her my wishes and she accused me of being obsessed with Abby! I tried to tell her that Abby is a credible threat to me and my plans and that she could get me into serious trouble with her unfounded accusations, but she said we have a twisted relationship and she's all I think about. I honestly don't know where she gets that from. Abby's on the Council so of course I have to deal with her on a regular basis.

I have decided to steer clear of both women for the time being, except for at Council meetings. Luckily Abby has been busy in Medical with a strep infection that's getting out of control and hasn't attended Council and Cece is overseeing administrative changes on Tesla Station so avoiding them both has been easy.

Sometimes I wonder if sex is worth all the rest that comes with it.

May 1st 2148

Goddamn kids! Today did not go to plan because someone decided to play a prank on me. I got up at 5.30am as usual and went to the Ark gym for a quick session before work. I was intending to run on the treadmill but Charles Pike was there and he persuaded me to do some weights. I don't have as much upper body strength as I'd like so it burned and we talked for twenty minutes or so while I cooled down. He's at his wits end with some of the young people he teaches. John Murphy in particular is an insolent young man. He's going to get into serious trouble one day just like his father.

It was later than usual when I got back to my quarters and I rushed to get changed ready for work. My boots were next to the bed as they always are and I sat down and put my feet in them, laced them up. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then when I got up and tried to move, my feet didn't come with me and my momentum sent me flying forwards. My boots seemed to be stuck to the floor and my feet were still inside them so I just fell forward. Luckily my knees buckled and my arms took the brunt of the fall but my face did hit the floor and I've now got a fist-sized bruise on my left cheek.

When I managed to haul myself back up and get out of the boots I realised they'd been glued to the floor. Whoever did it must have sneaked in while I was at the gym but I don't know how they got in as my quarters is always locked and has an entry code that only I and my guards know. I have ordered a review of security as a result. I left my quarters to get Sinclair's help removing the boots from the floor as I couldn't very well go to work in my gym shoes and who should be lurking outside the door but Monty Green and Jasper Jordan.

They feigned concern at my appearance.

"Sir! Are you injured?"

"Get in here."

I held the door open and they marched past me exchanging cocky glances they must have known I would see.

I pointed to the boots. "Is this your doing?"

They looked at the boots and at each other. Monty appeared to be official spokesman. "Are those your boots? What is the problem, Sir?"

"You know damn well what the problem is. The boots have been glued to the floor."

"That is nothing to do with us, Sir. Are you sure? Perhaps they were just heavier than usual this morning."

They kept such straight faces I started to doubt myself but who else could it have been? They have a reputation for practical jokes.

"Turn out your pockets."

They emptied their pockets on the table and I didn't need to look closely to see that the contents were the usual bits of rubbish people load themselves down with. There was certainly no glue. Not that I really expected to find any; they're idiots but not stupid.

"What were you doing lurking in the hallway outside my quarters?"

"We weren't lurking, Sir. We were walking to class and your door opened and startled us."

They have an answer for everything these kids. I didn't see how I was going to prove it was them and had no choice but to let them go. I leaned close to them in my most intimidating posture.

"If I find out this was your doing you'll be in serious trouble, you realise that, don't you?"

They didn't seem threatened at all, which may have had something to do with me standing there in my bare feet, and simply smiled and nodded.

"It was nothing to do with us, Sir, we swear."

I opened the door to let them out and they were half way down the hallway before I heard the first snicker.


	4. May 15th 2148

**May 15th 2148**

I had an erotic dream about Abby last night. God, why am I even writing this down? I'll write it just to get it out of my system and then I'll probably delete it. It's not a great surprise that she appeared in my dream because she often does, but usually in a work-related capacity. I haven't had one of _these_ dreams since, well, now's not the time for that story. Earlier in the day we had a particularly charged discussion at Council concerning her overuse of medicines compared with her colleague, Stevens. She uses three times as many opioids as him but has the same number of regular patients. She didn't take kindly to my suggestion that she was too easily conned by her patients and her claws came out with a vengeance. It's always thrilling arguing with her and my blood was running high for the rest of the day. I haven't seen Cece in a personal capacity in three weeks but it's not as if I'm not used to being alone for long periods of time. I think perhaps when you're having a lot of sex your hormones are prepared for it and when suddenly it's not there, all that testosterone has nowhere to go. I can't think of any other explanation for the dream. Abby would probably be able to explain it scientifically but Earth would have to become habitable before I'd ever ask her about it and that's not likely to happen soon.

I can't remember everything that happened in the dream but we were in the Council chamber having a meeting. Nothing was out of the ordinary except I noticed she was staring at me a lot. Every time I looked towards her she was watching me and she would look away but only after a second of holding my gaze. Normally when she stares at me her eyes are narrowed and she looks as though she wants to slice me open with her scalpel and scatter my insides around the room. In the dream, there was challenge in her eyes, a spark of excitement. It made my dream self get hot under the collar I have to say. There was electricity in the air; I could feel the buzz of it through my body. I looked around at the other Council members but they didn't seem to notice. Then they faded away and my vision narrowed to myself and Abby, staring at each other across the table, the air so heavy between us I could hardly breathe.

In the way that happens in dreams, time skipped and suddenly everyone had gone. We were alone in the Council chamber.

"You put up a good fight today," she said.

"I did?" I don't know how the words came out because my mouth was dry, my tongue thick and leaden.

"Better than usual. You nearly got me."

She stood up and walked slowly towards the door. She had to go past me to get out and as she neared she leaned in and said, "better luck next time" and gave me a sly smile. I stood up and gripped her arm to prevent her from leaving. A shot of electricity ran through me at the touch. She gasped but I wasn't sure if it was in anger that I had touched her or because she felt the same. She tried to shake my hand off but I held her tighter.

"I think your recollection of today's events is flawed."

She was backed up against the table now and she put her free hand on it to steady herself. I loosened my grip on her arm so she had the chance to leave if she wanted to. She didn't move.

"I don't think so," she replied, her eyes darkening as they looked into mine.

I couldn't help but notice that somehow, since the end of the meeting, she had undone two extra buttons on her top and the swell of her breasts was visible. The sight stirred me.

"I distinctly remember you agreeing that your idea of rationing medication leaves a lot to be desired."

I pressed against her, still holding her arm, and she shifted slightly, parting her legs just enough so that she rubbed deliciously against me. I let out a groan, I couldn't help it, and she gave that triumphant smile she has that always drives me crazy though not usually in a sexual way.

She slipped her arm free from my grip and her hands moved to the buttons of my pants.

"I think…" She eased one button out from its slot. "I actually said…" She fumbled with the second one, it was tight, but she has deft fingers and it too popped out. There was no mistaking where this was heading now. "My patients have greater needs than those of Stevens." She pulled the zipper down so slowly I thought I was going to burst with anticipation.

"That's the same thing!"

"No, it's not," she said, and put her hand inside my pants, running her fingers over my cock which was getting harder by the second.

A strangled "fuck" was all I could manage in reply.

She smiled at me, those fierce brown eyes softer, teasing. I wasn't about to let her get the upper hand, no matter how good it felt stroking my cock. I pulled her hand out from my pants so I could slip her jacket off. Her nipples were hard peaks beneath her top and I caressed them through the material. I desperately wanted to feel her bare skin but I could tell from the way she was trying to pull my hands down under the vest that she did too and I wasn't about to give her that satisfaction. Not yet.

"If you admit that you use more medications, you can have some of what you just gave me."

To emphasise my point, I ran my fingers down the front of her jeans, following the seam as it went lower, pressing the thick material into her crotch. She thrust towards my hand, so I took it away. She glared at me, that old scalpel-cutting glare.

"Kane!"

I didn't speak, just smirked because I know she hates it.

She sighed. "Fine. You know damn well I use more medications."

"That's all I wanted to hear." I unbuttoned her jeans as slowly as she had done mine and she was squirming by the time I had them undone. I pushed them down around her ankles. They were tighter than mine and I didn't want to be too constricted. She had thin black cotton underwear and I meant to tease her by touching her on the outside of it but I couldn't wait; I wanted to feel her. I slipped my hand beneath the waistband of her pants, finding warm skin and fine hair. She was so wet my fingers slid along her easily, tracing the contours of her, seeking her clit. The shaft hardened when I rubbed my fingers over it and she moaned. I couldn't resist a comment.

"You want me."

She opened her eyes, gave me a pitying look. "I want to fuck you; it's not the same thing."

I pinched her clit in revenge for that remark and she bit her lip but didn't cry out. She always was stubborn. Instead she covered my hand with hers, guiding it, forcing one, then two of my fingers inside her. I couldn't get my fingers all the way in from this angle so I contented myself with rubbing against the hard edge of her pubic bone and then up over her clit, enjoying the heat of her, and the way she was trying to stifle her moans. Her hand was back inside my pants, stroking as much of my cock as she could reach, confined as she was. She was in danger of making me come in my pants like a horny teenager and I didn't want that. I no longer had my teenage powers of recovery and if nothing else happened I wanted to be inside her before this dream ended.

"Take your top off."

She was forced to remove her hands again to do as I asked and as soon as her breasts were free I bent down to suck on her nipple. I thought she would like it hard and she did, her hands in my hair, pushing me towards her. Her skin was damp and sweat-salty. She was gyrating her hips against my fingers and I concentrated my efforts around her clit. She was close to orgasm; everything was slippery and soft and I lost friction and rhythm for a moment and she huffed impatiently. I mumbled "sorry" into her breast and found my rhythm again. A few seconds later she gasped "fuck, Kane," and her clit was pulsing against my fingers, her breasts full and heavy beneath my lips. Heat radiated out of her and it was like standing next to an oven on full blast.

I didn't give her much time to recover because I was desperately hard by now, my balls were aching and I was reciting the rules of the Ark to stop myself from coming just from the sight of Abby almost naked in front of me, flushed and panting.

"Turn around."

Her eyes got even wider if that were possible. "What?"

"Get out of those trousers first."

She stepped out of the tangle of pants at her feet (her boots had magically disappeared as had mine) and I took my own trousers off before pulling her cotton pants down.

"Now turn around and face the table."

She looked apprehensive but she turned and bent forward over the table. I felt a weird fluttering in my stomach at the realisation that she trusted me. Her legs were long and toned, her ass so tight I had to spare a moment just to look. Then I spread her legs apart and rubbed my cock up and down between her lips, coating the tip with her juices. I was so sensitive I couldn't do that more than a couple of times and then I pushed inside her, all the way in one go, she was so slick and open and I was so ready. We both said "fuck" at the same time. I was surprised she could take me so easily because I'm not a small guy and obviously in my dream I had maybe enhanced myself ever so slightly. She'd stopped bothering to stifle her pleasure by now, both of us having given in to what was happening and the Council chamber was filled with the sounds of our moans and my balls slapping against her ass. She looked back at me as I fucked her and for the first time in the whole encounter we kissed. Her tongue explored my mouth, hot and urgent. She tasted of that jasmine green tea she loves to drink. I always thought it smelled disgusting but the taste of it on her lips was fresh and heady. Her hand was between her legs, rubbing herself furiously and I knew I couldn't last much longer; reciting the Ark rules only worked for so long. The contractions were flowing in waves all the way to the tip of my cock and I came hard a second before she did. I rested my head on her back, hot sweaty skin to skin, both our hearts racing, bodies heaving breathlessly.

Suddenly the door to the Council chamber opened, and that's when I woke up, hot but satisfied, the sheets sticking to me unpleasantly. I don't know what to make of it but earlier, when I was eating my dinner, I found myself thinking about bedtime, and looking forward to it. That's when I decided to write the diary entry to get it out of my system and now I'm going to drink a lot of the moonshine I confiscated from Farm Station and try to put myself into a coma so I don't dream at all.


	5. May 21st 2148 to May 22nd 2148

May 21st 2148

What the hell? It's 5am and I've just switched on my work tablet to find this (I've taken a screen capture for the record). I've contacted Sinclair and he's on his way over. I've disconnected from the mainframe to be safe and I'm typing this on my personal tablet which doesn't appear to be affected, thankfully. I'll keep offline anyway just in case. I'm fairly sure it's going to turn out to be a prank. 

7am

It's not a prank. Sinclair says the system has been hacked by persons unknown and there's evidence they have been looking through files. They've left a trail behind them so they're either incompetent or they want us to know what they are capable of. I suspect the latter. I'm less convinced about the genuineness of the motive, though. If you're serious about gaining improved working conditions why would you also request moonshine? Also, they have misused the apostrophe with the plural noun. Smells like teenage spirit to me. I've commenced investigations.

7.30pm

This has turned out to be a long, nightmarish day. I've been all over the Ark interrogating a depressingly long list of likely suspects with no result. Sinclair is convinced it's a legitimate group so I visited Factory Station and interviewed all the technicians. Nobody admitted knowing anything about it and I believed them. Sinclair has been through Engineering with a fine-tooth comb and doesn't think the hacker is one of his staff. Tomorrow I'm going to follow my hunch of earlier and head to Farm Station where many of the teenage trouble-makers on this ship reside.

I have a big problem, personally, though, and I'm dubious about writing this down now but I may as well; the worst damage has already been done. I thought I was safe typing on my personal tablet because I never connect to the network on it but it turns out that _all_ devices are backed up every night to the Ark's mainframe computer. It's automatic and it can't be changed by the user. This means that every diary entry I've made so far is backed up somewhere in the system and not only could Sinclair or his team see it anytime but so could the hacker. I never deleted my dream about Abby. I forgot. OK, I didn't forget, I may have read it through once or twice since I wrote it, but regardless. It's out there. If anyone finds it and reads it I'm a dead man. It will be round the Ark quicker than a photon through space, and there's nothing faster than that. I will never live it down and it's not as though I can move to another country. Fuck.

May 22nd 2148 12.15pm

A quick update. My suspicions about Farm Station were proved right. I've caught the hacker and I'm waiting for him to be transferred to Prison Station for questioning. His name is John Mbege. He's seventeen and a co-conspirator of that delinquent Pike's always complaining about, John Murphy. I haven't been able to prove Murphy's involvement yet, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time. I'm going to instigate a major investigation into Farm Station. They get too many free passes because they're effectively the living heart of the Ark. If it weren't for the work they do, and the things they produce, life in here would be even more intolerable than it already is at times. Some citizens are abusing this trust and privilege, though. Rebellion is rife amongst the young people and it needs nipping in the bud, as it were. First on my list are Green and Jordan. If they're not in the Skybox before the end of this year I'll eat my glue-covered boots.

1am

The day is finally over. It has been satisfying in one sense because the culprit is now locked up in the Skybox and it turns out it was a prank, some hair-brained scheme Mbege dreamed up in his tiny mind to wind up the authorities. On the other hand, I have been unable to find a way to delete the diary entries that are already in the system without drawing a huge amount of attention to myself. I questioned Raven Reyes about it subtly but she was very unhelpful and I don't know enough about computer technology to be able to do it.

I guess this is the end of the diary. This thought depresses me. I've got used to writing in it; it's been helpful, a way to order my thoughts, clear my mind. It's been a way to share some truths, I suppose. I can't continue to be honest in it if everything I say is at risk of being read by somebody else. There's no one to trust on this ship, this orbiting prison of the body and mind. What's that old war slogan from Earth History? "Loose lips sink ships". The one who holds all the information holds the power and I'm not giving anyone else power over me. No one can know my true thoughts or plans; the security of the Ark depends on my complete discretion. On the other hand, the diary has become an essential tool as I mentioned before. I must find a solution.

3am

I've got it. The solution. This is probably not going to be a very coherent entry because I've just woken up after only two hours of sleep but that's clearly all my brain needed to come up with an answer. If there's one thing this hacking business has identified, it's that keeping all our security information on the Ark's mainframe is a bad idea. If that idiot Mbege can hack the network so easily then I shudder to think what someone with malicious intent could achieve. Sinclair may trust that Raven Reyes has now made the Ark leak-proof but I don't. I'll just tell him that at least one tablet should stay off the network and not get backed up, so that extremely sensitive information is less likely get into the wrong hands. As Head of the Guard it is natural that the un-networked tablet should belong to me. Of course, the tablet could still get stolen but it could be encrypted. It would be easy for Reyes to secure one tablet I'm sure. Although would that look suspicious, if it were only my tablet that was unmonitored? Maybe it would be better if _all_ the Councillor's had access to private tablets. That would deflect Sinclair's thoughts from me. I will action this first thing. There's nothing I can do about the information that is already out there. My dream about Abby exists as a series of ones and zeros somewhere in the Ark mainframe and I'll just have to live with that and hope no one ever looks. Time to sleep, if I can.


	6. June 2nd 2148

**June 2nd 2148**

It's my mother's birthday today. I can't remember how old she is. Age is not really something I take much notice of, or birthdays for that matter. It's just a day, like any other. I wouldn't have bothered with my own if Cece hadn't forced me and look how that turned out! Mom has asked me to visit her later so I have promised to look in on her once my shift is over.

 **Midnight**

What a night! Now I know what it's like to be on the receiving end of one of my own interrogations. It started out badly and went downhill from there. When I arrived at my mother's apartment I was greeted with a notice telling me to go to the Mess. My suspicions should have been raised then but I figured she preferred to meet for a drink. I was not expecting a party to be in full swing when I walked through the door. It was gone 9pm because I had to work late dealing with a technical problem on Prison Station. There must have been a couple of hundred people in the room. I started to turn to walk back out again when mother called my name. She has a quiet voice but years of preaching have taught her how to project it and it cut through the air like a missile, leaving silence in its wake. Everyone turned to look at me and I knew my chance to escape had gone.

She walked towards me, drink in hand, and by the wobble in her gait it looked as though she had already had more than one drink.

"Happy Birthday, mom." I kissed her cheek, her skin thin and papery beneath my lips. "I wasn't expecting so many people here." I gestured round the room at the throng who had gone back to chatting now that my presence had been noted. Some of them were no doubt talking about me judging by the sly glances in my direction. I'm used to that; it comes with being Head of the Guard. I don't mind people talking about me; it's preferable to them talking to me.

"Well, it is a special birthday, Marcus." Mom looked closely at me and I could tell from the way her mouth dropped slightly at the edges that she suspected I had no idea what birthday it was.

"Congratulations," I replied, which was lame I know, but it bought me a little time. I did some quick math in my head. She'd told me many times how they'd tried for a child for years, and then I came along just when they'd given up hope. I was the apple of her eye blah, blah, blah. I gambled. "You look great for seventy, mom."

She beamed at me then and I relaxed a little. It didn't last long. I glanced around the room. I was hoping to see Sinclair so there would at least be someone to talk to but the only person nearby was Abby, standing alone, leaning against the wall, sipping from her cup, those sharp eyes scanning the crowd before alighting on me. I nodded to her in greeting. She returned the gesture. Jake was across the room talking to someone from Engineering. There was no sign of Cece thankfully.

"You're here alone again, Marcus. No girlfriend?" Mom looked me up and down and from every angle as though I were going to produce a woman from some hidden crevice in my clothing.

"I'm not seeing anyone at present, mom." I get this question every time I see her. It's tiresome. I was tempted to tell her about Cece just to get her off my back but I know it would have the opposite effect. The questions would just get more detailed and personal.

"You never seem to be. Perhaps you have a boyfriend? I'm okay with that, you know. You can tell me. There's no shame in it."

"I know, mom." Does she forget that she asks me these things every time or does she think that if she asks me enough times one day I'll give in and reveal some hidden truth? Someday, I'll tell her I'm having a secret affair with Commander Shumway and see if that shuts her up.

Abby was listening to this entire exchange. I could see her out of the corner of my eye, watching us, smirking.

I rested my hand on my mother's arm, gave it a squeeze that was just a bit harder than it should be, as a signal to keep her voice down, or change the subject. As usual she didn't notice, or ignored it.

"You always were a sensitive child. Locked away in your room, reading. What was it you always liked to read? What was that book, Marcus?"

"I don't remember, mom."

"Oh, you do. There was a little boy in it. What was his name?"

"There are little boys in most children's books."

Abby moved closer. She had a blush of red across her nose and cheeks, and her eyes were even brighter than usual. I don't think she was on her first cup of alcohol either. She gave my mother a kiss on the cheek.

"Happy Birthday, Vera."

"Aw, thank you, love."

"I couldn't help overhearing your conversation."

What was she doing butting in? I gave Abby a glare so heated it could have melted steel. She looked away, unaffected. I forgot; she's tougher than steel, more like Kevlar.

"I think Jake is looking for you, Abby." I gestured vaguely in the direction of where I'd last seen Jake, trying to deflect her from whatever she was about to say, which was sure to be uncomfortable for me one way or another. She ignored me. Why are all the women in my life so wilful and belligerent? I like a strong woman, don't get me wrong. Everyone's equal on the Ark, always have been, and that's the way it should be. It's just that sometimes, just now and then, I would like for someone to listen to me and do as they're told. The only people who do that are my guards and that's because they have no choice. Will one day someone do as I ask because they want to, because it pleases them to please me? I doubt it.

She dismissed me with a wave of her hand. "Jake is fine. I think I know the book Marcus used to like to read. It was that book about the boy who travelled the universe."

She paused then, looking pensive, like she was searching the dark recesses of her memory, though I'm sure it was all for effect.

"The Little Prince, wasn't it, by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry?"

"Oh, it was, Marcus. That's right!"

My mother clapped her hands with childish glee at the memory. My heart sank. Of course, Abby was right, but this was not a conversation I wanted to have with her right now. I attempted to shut her down.

"Like I said, I don't remember."

My attempt to quiet her failed. She continued.

"No, it definitely was, Marcus." The way she pronounced my given name was like a snake in a fairytale pretending to be friendly. The lips formed a bright smile, the fangs were hidden, but the s was hissed, and full of venom. I swear I expected a forked tongue to come out of her mouth at any moment. There was no stopping her.

"I remember, because it was one of the only paper books on the Ark and you were the lucky one who had it. It was battered and dog-eared and smelled funny but you wouldn't be parted from it."

"Perhaps you are right, but I've grown since then. I've put away childish things."

"Quoting the Bible, Marcus! You taught him well, Vera."

Mom was looking back and forth between us, smiling tipsily.

"I wasn't sure any of it had stuck," she said.

"Clearly it has," replied Abby. "And so apt. If there's anyone who sees through a glass, darkly, it's Marcus." Her leering smile reminded me of the one she gave me in my dream, just before she unbuttoned me. How did I ever turn that into something sexy? It should have given me nightmares.

"Thank you for your insightful analysis of my character, Abby. If only we were all as perfect as you."

She took a sip of her drink, ignoring my comment.

"So what was it about The Little Prince that resonated with you so much? Did you identify with him?"

I didn't want to give her more ammunition to attack me with. "Aren't there patients pining for your bedside manner?"

"What do you think, Vera?"

Ignored, again.

"Well, he always did want to escape, didn't you? He used to pretend he lived on another planet, Abby. Spent ages staring out into space picking the perfect home."

This was like a nightmare there was no waking up from. I couldn't see how to escape this conversation without giving these persistent women something to chew on.

"Who wouldn't want to escape this place? It's hardly a surprise that a young child stuck in a spaceship would dream of adventure."

Abby nodded. "That's true, but it's sad, isn't it, because there's no hope of going anywhere else except the Ark, so your childish dreams will never come true and you must have known that at the time?"

"What we want as a child is not the same as what we want when we are adults. And anyway, it depends on how you look at it. In the end, what the boy wanted most he found on his own planet after all."

"You mean love?"

"I'm talking about meaning. Purpose."

Abby rubbed her finger along her lower lip, a gesture she often does when she's thinking, or plotting, I never know which. "You are like the Little Prince, the more I think about it. Disciplined, determined, single-minded."

"You say it as though those are bad things to be."

"They are, when that's all there is. Where's your rose, Marcus? Was there ever a rose?"

That question was so loaded and personal I didn't know how to answer it, except by lying. My pause before answering was a fraction too long and that told Abby far more than my words did.

"No. There was no rose." I tried to look her in the eye but I couldn't quite manage it. There was silence for a moment. My mother was smiling and reminiscing to herself but Abby's silence had a weight to it. When I finally looked at her I could see her brain working, see the emotions flashing across her eyes. I was annoyed with this whole stupid conversation, with the truths it was revealing.

"Jake is looking for you," I said, and this time he was. She turned and saw him waving her over. She looked back at me, her mouth slightly open as though she was about to speak, and then she shut it again, choosing silence for once in her life. She nodded at me, and gave mom a kiss before heading across the room to Jake.

"I never understood what happened with you and Abby, Marcus," said mom, and I just shook my head, not willing to start THAT conversation. Women will be the death of me.

Of course, I can admit in here that the whole conversation was excruciating because there was so much truth in it but there was no way in hell I wanted mom or Abby to see that. I still have that book, and when I got back earlier I read it again. When you're young and idealistic, it's easy for people to disappoint you, for the rose to have thorns that prick you and make you bleed. Now that I'm older, and time has passed, people still disappoint me, but I can see that, perhaps, I disappoint them as well. All the rose wanted was some care and attention, but as the Little Prince said, "I was too young to know how to love her."


	7. June 20th 2148 to June 27th 2148

**June 20th 2148**

For a few months now I have been the recipient of strange items left for me in Go-Sci or at Prison Station. I wasn't sure what they were at first. They seemed like shapeless lumps of scrap metal, bent and twisted at odd angles. Whoever is making them has got better at it over the weeks though because recently they've become more recognisable. They're small sculptures, about four inches high, and I think they're supposed to be me. A couple of weeks ago the sculpture had a tiny Councillor's pin attached to it right where mine usually is and the creator had made miniature boots out of scraps of leather. I didn't know what to make of it all. The clumsiness of the early creations made them seem benign and unthreatening. As time has passed and they've got more detailed they've become more sinister to me.

They never come with a note or any explanation as to what they are for or why they are being sent to me. They are always brought by a messenger whenever I'm not scheduled to be on duty on that particular station, with a verbal instruction that they are to be given only to me. I have never managed to catch the person who is delivering them and according to the people who have taken delivery of a sculpture on more than one occasion it is not always the same messenger.

I've questioned a few people about them. Abby laughed in my face when I suggested she was behind them, and said that if she were going to waste time making effigies of me she'd make them big enough to throw a punch at for times when I'd really annoyed her. I expect they would get a lot of use! Her comment did get me thinking, though. I've read about ancient religions and I know about a practice called Voodoo where dolls are made of people and pins stuck in them in order to inflict physical harm on the person. If that is the case then Abby would go right back to the top of my suspect list! Of course, the suggestion that you can affect how another person feels by inserting pins into a crude rendering of their body is ridiculous, and more to the point I'm in peak physical condition at the moment. I've never felt better than I do right now. What I think about this practise, however, doesn't matter. It's the intention of the person sending them that is important.

Last week, events took another turn. I walked into Go-Sci to find Abby and Sinclair with their heads bent together over a desk, giggling like a pair of schoolchildren. When they saw me, they split apart and went back to their respective work stations. I looked at what they had been laughing over and it was another sculpture, only this time there were two people. One was clearly meant to be me and the other was an unidentifiable female. The two sculptures were in an embrace. I turned to Abby and Sinclair.

"What the hell is this?"

They both turned back to look at me, trying to maintain poker faces, but failing.

"Your mystery benefactor has struck again," said Sinclair. "You missed the messenger by minutes."

"Did you recognise who brought it?"

Sinclair shook his head. "It was no one I've seen before."

"Abby? You must know more people on here than anyone."

"Even if I did, I can't break patient confidentiality, Kane, you know that."

"So, you did recognise him?"

"I'm not saying that."

She crossed her arms defiantly, her mouth set in a thin tight line.

"I'm not asking for his medical history!"

Her lips curved slightly upwards in amusement but she remained firm. I didn't think she knew who it was; she was just enjoying messing with me.

I turned the sculpture over and over, as though some hidden clue would reveal itself to me if I looked closely enough. The two figures were locked in a warm embrace, arms wrapped tightly around each other, heads resting on the other's shoulder. They weren't kissing, or doing anything else untoward, so that was something to be grateful for at least.

"How many of these have you had now?" Abby held her hand out and I passed her the sculpture.

"I'm not exactly sure, ten, eleven maybe. There's been one a week for about the last three months."

Abby examined the sculpture in the same way I had.

"What do you think it means?" I asked her.

She smiled. "For an intelligent man, you're remarkably dense sometimes."

"What do you mean?"

She traced the outline of the figures, her fingers sliding over my body, caressing the shape of me. My blood warmed a little.

She looked me in the eye. "You have an admirer, Kane."

"What?" I took the figures back, looked at them again. "No!"

Abby nodded. "You do. Look at it. It's a love token. Some poor, deluded woman has a crush on you."

I found that as hard to believe as Abby clearly did. I thought about the women in my life. My mom, Cece, Abby, Councillor Muir, Diana Sydney. It couldn't be any of them, and I barely talk to anyone else, not if I can help it. Who could it be? Abby must be wrong.

I shook my head. "I can't see it."

"Neither can I," said Abby, "but not everyone knows you as well as we do." She turned to Sinclair. "It's possible someone out there might think Councillor Kane is attractive?"

Sinclair nodded. "He has a dark mysteriousness about him."

"He does. Some women find that a turn-on."

They were enjoying mocking me far too much so I ended the conversation and left the room.

That was a week ago, and today I had a breakthrough. I was supposed to be in Go-Sci attending a meeting to discuss a new Ark maintenance schedule but a problem had come up on Prison Station. One of my guards had gone too far with a prisoner he was interrogating, leaving the boy with a broken arm and two black eyes. I had to head over to the Skybox to deal with the situation. It so happened, then, that I was in the station reception just as a messenger arrived with a package for Councillor Kane.

I intercepted him immediately and asked him to come to the interrogation room with me. I was prepared to arrest him if he didn't comply but he was intimidated enough to do as I asked without question.

"Who instructed you to deliver this package?"

"I don't know, Sir."

"You must know who told you. Where did you pick it up from?"

I won't bother repeating the whole interrogation here. It took a few minutes of questioning to get the truth out of him. It turns out that there's an underground postal service of sorts. A kind of dead drop system where packages are left with a note of the recipient together with payment of one kind or another. The payment is picked up by one person and the package by another. No one involved knows anyone else in the chain. This was disappointing news as I was hoping to be able to identify the sender today. Still, I have a place to start now. I know what day the package is always left and I know where. All I have to do now is stake out the location and catch the culprit red-handed. What I'll do with them after that, I have no idea.

 **June 23rd 2148**

Last night I dreamt of the ground again. It was empty, as always; barren, desolate, spoiled. Yet standing here, watching the Earth pass beneath me, it still seems so vibrant, like it hasn't changed since the Blue Marble photo taken by Apollo 17 nearly 170 years ago. I've looked through photos of Earth taken from the original thirteen stations over the years and from this viewpoint, only 400km away, they show the reality of a planet changed by its people. Lakes shrinking each year until they are at one with the surrounding desert. Huge areas of verdant forest reduced to bare earth. All documented, decade after decade, in the photos from space. Humans were hell-bent on destroying the Earth long before the war to end all wars finally wiped everyone out. Everyone except for the so-called lucky few already on the Ark stations. Back then the densely-populated areas of the planet were lit up at night, the richest countries defined by these clusters of artificial light, so bright they must have blocked out the view of the stars. No wonder people became so self-centred, disconnected as they were from their place in the universe.

Now when I look down there are no lights except for the flares of erupting volcanoes and the red-green streaks of the aurora dancing beneath. In the absence of human life, the planet's scars are healing over, the forests flourishing. I don't know what kind of trees they are, how healthy they must be, but they're there, living, growing.

I was born 55 years after the nuclear apocalypse, the third generation never to have set foot on Earth. There will be three more at least after me. My life is dedicated to ensuring the survival of what is left of the human race, so that those future people can get back to the ground and live full lives again, and that's all I want. If I could go to Earth tomorrow I would do it. Sometimes in my dreams I am standing in a forest of tall trees, breathing the fresh air; it's rain-cooled and tastes sweet, and green. When you know you can never have something you always want it more. I know I'll never go to the ground, never taste the air or feel the earth beneath my feet, but if I can't have that for me then I'll do everything I can to make sure our ancestors do get to feel those things.

There are times, though, when I look at that blue marble, and think about how it is renewing itself without our intervention, that I wonder if going back to Earth is the right thing to do. We teach the kids how to survive, and how to look after the planet, but people are people. Do they ever really change? When we finally make it to the ground, how long will it be before we're back to our old ways? There's a deep human need to conquer and control, and I suspect that will never go away.

 **June 25th 2148**

Two more days until I can find out who is sending the figures. Wondering about this has preoccupied me more than I thought it could. Every woman I meet I'm suspicious of. I had occasion to spend time with Raven Reyes today and I noticed she wears a necklace fashioned out of copper and other scrap material. It's more delicate and sophisticated than the figures I've been receiving but maybe that's part of the game. Maybe the figures are deliberately crude to throw me off the scent. Why would someone like her be interested in me? She's half my age. She caught me staring at her today. Unfortunately, the necklace rests quite low on her chest, and I think she got the wrong idea. She glared at me, a look so withering it was worthy of Abby. I doubt she's the sender.

I bumped into former Chancellor Sydney earlier as well. Literally bumped into her. I rounded a corner without looking where I was going, too busy thinking about Reyes, and we collided shoulder to shoulder. I mumbled a "sorry" and she said, "don't be sorry" and raised an eyebrow, glancing back at me as she went past. I didn't know what to make of that, but she's one of the most direct people I know. If she had feelings for me, I'd be flat on my back by now trying to fight her off!

 **June 27th 2148**

The mystery has been revealed! I was up very early this morning and in place for the surveillance before 5am. I wasn't expecting the sender to bring the package to the dead drop until mid-morning but I didn't want to take any chances and miss my opportunity to catch them. The dead drop was a locker in an ante room leading from the kitchen. I was able to position myself in a storeroom that had a glass window looking into the room. I had to remain standing the whole time which was excruciating. My legs went numb, I got cramp and I needed to pee badly but I didn't dare move. For some reason, finding out the identity of my secret admirer had become more important than any mission I've undertaken in the past few months. I needed to know who it was, not for any romantic reason, but because I wanted to put this whole business to bed, nip whatever fantasy this person was nurturing in the bud before it got even further out of hand.

I must admit part of me thought it was another prank, that my admirer would turn out to be John Murphy or one of the other delinquents I run into from time to time. It was exactly the kind of thing they would get a kick out of.

After six long hours of waiting, and at the point when I thought I couldn't continue any longer without resting my legs for a moment (I'd already given in and peed in a bottle I found in the storeroom), someone came into the room. I couldn't see them clearly at first as they had their back to me when they approached the locker. It was definitely a female, young by the way she walked with an easy, loose-limbed grace. She was blonde and I felt a stab of familiarity but I couldn't place it. There was something about the way she held herself that I recognised. I waited until she'd placed an object in the locker, and as she turned to leave I opened the door and stepped in front of her. She jumped and her eyes grew wide, her mouth dropping open in a silent oh. I knew who she was now.

"McIntyre!"

She stared at me, shock still etched on her face.

"What have you put in that locker? Open it, please."

She didn't move, just stood there, head down, cheeks reddening. I noticed a key in her hand and I took it and opened the locker with it. Inside was another sculpture, the two figures holding hands, looking ahead towards some imagined future or heaven knows what. Now that the person responsible for all the sculptures was standing in front of me, face red, eyes wide, I didn't know what to do. Harper has been interning in Go-Sci for the last few months. She has discipline issues and Sinclair took her on as a favour to her mother. She's always there in the background. I have barely taken any notice of her. I'm not even sure what she does. Data inputting or something. She's a child, younger than Reyes. Young enough to be my daughter.

"Have you been sending these sculptures to me?"

She nodded, finally looking up at me.

"Why? Is this some kind of joke?"

She bit her lip, as though she was thinking how best to approach this. She lowered her eyes.

"I thought you might like them." She glanced up then, looking at me through thick lashes. "Do you like them?"

"They're crudely fashioned but they have a charm, I suppose."

She stepped closer to me. "They're all you, you know that, right?"

I stepped back; her proximity was making me feel uncomfortable. "I suspected that was the case. That's why I'm here. I don't approve of you mocking me in this way."

She looked indignant. "I'm not mocking you! They're… I was inspired by you. I wanted to make them. For you."

"Well, they're inappropriate, and they stop now. Do you understand?"

She turned those big eyes on me again. If she thinks something like that will work on me then she doesn't know me at all.

"Are you sure?"

"Sure about what?"

"That you want me to stop?" Before I knew what was happening she'd closed the gap between us, her hand was on my chest, her body pressed up against mine. Abby may think I'm clueless when it comes to matters of the heart but even I knew this was not a good situation to be in. I pushed her away, took a few steps towards the door.

"Look. It was pointed out to me that maybe you have er, feelings for me, and I can see now that perhaps that is the case."

Her eyes lit up. "You've been talking about me? Who with? Who said that?"

"It doesn't matter who said it and we were taking about the sender, not you specifically. If it's true. Well. It can't happen. You have to, er, stop thinking like that."

"I can't just turn my feelings on and off, you know."

"No. Well. You have to try."

"What if I don't want to?"

I thought she would be humiliated at being rejected but she was growing bolder. The longer the conversation was going on, the more confident she seemed to be getting. I had to stop this before it got worse.

"I'm old enough to be your father."

"I know. I like the older man. An older man knows what he's doing."

This was not going well. Everything I said she twisted to suit her needs. I wished there was someone else with me, someone like Abby; she'd know how to handle this.

"Well, you have to stop this. I'm not interested. I'm sorry."

She shrugged, feigning a nonchalance. "It's your loss."

I handed her the sculpture. "I suggest you find someone your own age. Someone more appropriate."

She took it reluctantly. "Maybe one day, you'll see."

I shook my head. "No, I won't. Now. I don't want to make anything of this, even though you've broken a number of rules using this dead drop system. If you promise to stop sending the sculptures, I'll say no more about it."

I pointed to the door, trying to usher her out of the room without touching her or moving within ten feet of her. She took the hint, looking back at me with a sly smile as she went. "If you ever need me, I'll be there for you." And then she left.

Looking back, I'm not sure I handled that as well as I could have. I was too lenient on her for one thing. The dead drop system is a serious abuse of the law and I could have had her locked up in the Skybox along with the messengers I rounded up earlier this week. I didn't want to draw attention to the whole business, however. I'm concerned that by letting her off with a warning, she'll be encouraged to invent some deeper meaning to my actions. Time will tell, I suppose. I just hope there isn't another sculpture waiting for me next week.


	8. July 6th 2148

July 6th 2148

I spent this evening with Jake. We watched The Great Escape again. It's become a kind of ritual. Every couple of months I go over to his quarters when Abby is working a night shift and Clarke is having a sleepover with a friend. We watch old war films and The Great Escape has become a favourite. Jake says I like it because it gives me an insight into all the tricks my prisoners could get up to. I'd love to see them try tunnelling out of Lockup! We don't get many escape attempts because even if someone managed to get out of Prison Station, where would they go after that? The Ark is an island in a sea of space. You can't escape to a neighbouring country and start a new life with a change of identity and a false moustache. And you certainly can't swim anywhere, although several people have chosen to float themselves to escape justice on their own terms or for personal reasons.

I'm sure there are plenty of people who'd think I'd identify more with the Germans in the film than the prisoners. That's the role I'm cast in as Head of the Guard, a role I've chosen for myself let's be honest. There's a difference, though, between upholding laws that are in place for the good of everyone, and being a cruel dictator. Everyone on the Ark knows the rules, and if they break them they must accept the consequences. There is no hidden agenda, nothing is done on the whim of a despot. The people don't live in a state of fear not knowing whether what they've done right this week will be wrong next week. Everything is black and white, controlled, open. People know where they stand.

I think Jake is joking when he says I'm on the side of the Germans; I've never asked him. He thinks he's Steve McQueen anyway so I'm not sure I trust his judgement! I like the film because it shows how indomitable the human spirit can be. It doesn't matter what is thrown at those men, they are determined to do their duty and escape and will do anything to make that happen. It reminds me of our life on the Ark. It's not an easy existence. There are so few resources, so many deprivations, but people are inventive, and make the best of it. Our people are resilient. We always find a way to survive.

Jake was quieter than usual this evening. Neither of us are big talkers. We mostly watch a film and discuss the theme. We try to avoid the subject of work but it's hard to do because there isn't much else. The only other thing we have in common is Abby and she has banned Jake from talking to me about her (he told me that much). Does she think I find her so fascinating she's all I want to talk about? It's good to get away from her. I don't like sports and Jake doesn't like music but we both enjoy history, so that's usually where conversations end up, particularly the Ark's history, and sometimes its future.

We'd been sitting in quiet contemplation for a few minutes, sipping whisky, watching the film come full circle with McQueen back in his cell, eternally bouncing his baseball. I had slipped into a reverie about what it must be like to ride a motorcycle, to move at speed with nothing but a couple of thin bits of rubber keeping you upright, to feel the wind against your face and in your hair. I jumped, therefore, when Jake finally spoke.

"Do you ever think about the Earth? What kind of state it's in right now?"

I thought back to my dream of a couple of weeks ago. "Sometimes. It's hard to believe it's so poisoned when you look at it from up here."

"What if it's not?"

"Not what?"

"Poisoned. What if it's habitable after all?"

"It's statistically impossible that it is habitable after less than 100 years. You know that."

"Logically, yes. But we don't know for sure."

"We've run all the simulations, used every scenario we can think of, changed all the parameters. The outcome is always the same. Two hundred years minimum before we can go back."

Jake rubbed his chin, his brow furrowed, eyes unfocussed. He didn't respond.

"Why do you ask?"

He looked at me then, and smiled, if you could call a slight downturn of the mouth a smile. "I don't know, Kane. No reason. Just thinking out loud."

There's a psychological state called the Overview Effect that mainly affected the early space explorers when they saw the Earth from space for the first time. It made them feel insignificant, and feel a greater sense of awe and wonder for the planet they'd left behind. Even though everyone on the Ark was born here, it can still affect people. There's a strong pull towards the land of our ancestors, a need to see it for oneself that resides deep inside. When it's coupled with the other psychological effects of living in close quarters with other people, in a spaceship you can never escape from, it can be debilitating and lead to depression. I wondered if this was the cause of Jake's melancholy. He has a tendency towards the romantic and emotional. He and Abby make a good pair.

"The Earth is not survivable, Jake, and wishing otherwise isn't helpful to anyone."

"I know that. I just wonder if there's any way to be sure. If we could go to the ground earlier, everyone would want that, wouldn't they?"

"Of course, but it's impossible to know, and so we have to wait."

He sighed deeply. "We're all going to die up here."

"We've always known that. But your descendants will live on Earth one day."

He clapped me on the shoulder. "Don't mind me. The whisky's making me think too much."

I wasn't convinced by his false cheeriness. Maybe it was the whisky, or the Overview Effect, or the consequences of living with someone as relentlessly temperamental as Abby is, I don't know. It did get me thinking, though. Is there some way of finding out what conditions on the Earth are really like? It would be good to have some real-time data to input into our simulations. I'll talk to Sinclair tomorrow. Maybe there's something we've missed.


	9. July 14th 2148

July 14th 2148

Today was a celebration day on Factory Station. Before the apocalypse, the station was owned by the French and there's still a desire among the people to celebrate la Fête Nationale, when the French prison, the Bastille, was stormed in 1789 and the French Revolution gathered momentum. I don't understand these celebration days for the most part. An adherence to an event that happened four hundred years ago on an Earth that barely exists anymore seems ludicrous to me. I prefer to celebrate Unity Day as it's meaningful to Arkers and there's less chance of unrest. This day by its very nature seems to inspire revolutionary feelings in some of the workers and Factory Station can be hard to control at the best of times. I'd been on patrol all day but there was little trouble except for a couple of drunken fights. Those men are cooling their heels in Lockup until they sober up.

In the evening, there was a dance for the younger people to attend and I ended up acting as chaperone due to illness wiping out a number of my men. To make matters worse, who should I be working with but Abby Griffin! What a way to make a bad night a torturous one. Judging by the look on her face when she saw me, the feeling was mutual. She was dressed casually in khaki pants and a brown V-necked sweater. Her hair was swept to the side in a long braid. I don't know how she does it, but she never looks tidy. The strands of her braid were different sizes and some were coming loose. I often wonder if she even owns a hairbrush.

I nodded politely in her direction. "Councillor."

She nodded back, but didn't smile. "Councillor."

I waited a few moments, stood quietly watching the rituals young people go through when they all want to do something but no one wants to be the first to do it. The girls were all on one side of the room, in whispering huddles. The boys were on the other, hands in pockets, trying to be cool. I decided to try and break the ice with Abby (literally, it was like standing next to an arctic wind, or at least what I imagine one to feel like).

"Would you like a wager?"

She stared at me. "Excuse me?"

I nodded towards the kids. "Which of them do you think will be brave enough to act first?"

I could see her calculating whether she could be bothered engaging with me. She obviously decided like me that it was going to be a long night and she might as well, because she answered.

"Two possibilities. One, the coolest kid will do it because he's a trend setter and he doesn't care what others think. That's what makes him cool in their eyes."

"Who's that?"

"John Murphy."

"Oh." That guy. Pike had asked me to keep a close eye on him tonight. He was convinced he and some others were planning something. "And the second?"

Abby smiled. "One of the goofy kids will do it for a lark and because they don't care either."

"Green and Jordan?"

"Yes."

"So, who are you backing?"

"I'm not agreeing to a wager when I don't know what the terms are."

I thought for a moment. So many possibilities. What could I make the good doctor do when she lost the bet, as she was bound to do?

"The loser has to test all the punch for alcohol." That might not sound like much of a punishment but that stuff is usually a disgusting mix of artificial flavours and recycled water. You'd be better off drinking your own piss.

Abby pulled a face. "I'd better make sure I win, then. I'm voting for Murphy."

That left Green or Jordan, or some other possibility. "I think it will be Jordan."

We stood side by side, watching as the girls looked at the boys and the boys pretended to look bored. Murphy was leaning against the wall, quick eyes scanning the room. I didn't think he was looking for a girl to ask to dance; more likely he was plotting something disruptive. Green and Jordan were play-fighting with each other. Maybe neither of us would win the bet and then we'd both lose and have to taste the punch.

"Takes you back, doesn't it?" I was surprised she spoke without prompting. We've had a few disputes lately and I'm not in her good books; not that I ever am.

"What does?"

She gestured round the room. "This. The dance."

I wasn't sure why she was bringing the past up. She usually treated me like someone she barely knew and had to tolerate. Luckily, before I had the chance to answer, one of the boys made his move, heading across the gulf between the sexes, bowing low before his chosen girl and gesturing to the designated dance floor with an exaggerated sweep of his arm. It was Jordan. Abby groaned and I smiled with satisfaction.

"Best get to it, Abby." Remember that look she gives me, the one where I end up chopped into small pieces? This was one of the times I was happy to get that look.

Now that the gulf had been breached, the kids started to mingle and it wasn't long before they were dancing and chatting and flirting and whatever it is kids do these days. Abby was over at the drinks table, tasting the punch, grimacing as she swallowed the foul liquid. The kids were drinking it up gleefully. I guess something happens to change the tastebuds as you grow. Sweet, sickly drinks become disgusting, and bitter, astringent liquids taste like heaven. I could have done with one of those right then, a strong, peaty malt that would burn my throat as it slipped down before warming my belly and all my limbs. What I would have given for that. I should have made the forfeit that the loser buys the winner a drink. That would just about have killed Abby!

When she came back to where I was standing she did not look happy.

"That stuff is lethal. I hope the kids do put something in it. At least then it might be drinkable."

"I'm sure someone will try before the night is out. We must be vigilant."

"I think you need to be vigilant now. Your admirer is on her way over." Abby gave a half nod and a glance behind me and I only managed a confused "what?" before Harper McIntyre was upon me, all confident swagger and flirty smile.

"Councillor Kane!" she looked me up and down. "You like nice tonight."

"I look the same as always, McIntyre."

Harper bit her bottom lip, did that looking up at me through her eyelashes thing again.

"Would you like to dance? I bet you'd be great."

Abby had moved behind Harper so she could smirk at me without the girl seeing. This whole situation made me feel ten years old.

"Absolutely not."

Harper turned to Abby and I was amazed to see how quickly she changed her face from a smile to a poker-face. I didn't know she had it in her.

"You wouldn't mind, would you, Doctor Griffin?"

"Not at all, Harper. He's all yours." Her voice was low and seductive, like honey laced with cyanide.

I couldn't even glare at her because Harper was watching me intently.

"It's out of the question, McIntyre. I've already told you to find someone your own age. What's wrong with Jordon or Green or someone?"

"They're just boys. They're not manly, like you are."

At that comment, Abby couldn't contain herself any longer and she moved away. I could hear her laughing softly, trying to hold it in and failing.

"I can't help you. I'm here to chaperone the dance, and even if I weren't. Like I said. It's out of the question. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

I stood tall, arms folded, and scanned the room, not really looking at anything, just indicating to McIntyre that the conversation was over. She took the hint eventually. Abby was across the room by that stage, moving through the throng, stopping every now and then to chat to some of the kids. She always was at ease in these social situations, unlike me. After a half hour or so she made her way back to me.

"Thanks for leaving me alone with her."

"Oh c'mon, Kane. You've dealt with far worse things than her. Don't tell me a schoolgirl has the better of you."

"Of course not." The truth is, though, that there's nothing deadlier than a determined young girl with one thing on her mind. Abby should know that more than most. I was tempted to bring that up to prove my point but it might have lead to a conversation I was sure neither of us wanted, so I kept quiet.

Abby's eyes seemed brighter than when she left; her cheeks had a slight flush and it had spread across her chest.

"Did you try any of the punch while you were off leaving me to fend off lovesick girls?"

She laughed. "Lovesick girls! How many admirers do you have?"

"That's not the point. Did you have any of the punch?"

"I tried some more. I take my duties seriously you know."

"Are you sure there was no alcohol in it?"

"Absolutely!"

I wasn't convinced, but it was warm in the room and she'd been chatting to people she actually liked as opposed to me, so I put her happier demeanour down to that and didn't think any more of it at the time.

Music blared through the speakers and the kids danced to songs that had been danced to by their ancestors for over 200 years. There's very little new material available. Spare parts are too valuable to waste on making musical instruments so apart from songs for the voice there hasn't been anything new since the last people brought their music to the Ark just before the Apocalypse. I prefer classical music. It soothes me at the end of the day, particularly when I've had difficult decisions to make. The kids prefer songs from the late 20th Century, though, and those were playing now, light, meaningless songs with a fast beat. Music like that often leads to trouble. I kept my eye on the crowd, looking for Murphy who was still leaning against the wall. He caught me watching, and raised his cup to me. Cheeky bugger.

Abby had done another tour of the room and came back eyes even brighter with two cups of punch. She handed one to me.

"It's not so bad once you get used to it."

I didn't believe her but I took a sip anyway; I was thirsty and there was nothing else available. It didn't taste as bad as I remembered. I drained my cup. Abby fetched me another.

"Do you remember this song?" she asked.

I listened for a few moments. It was called 'Ashes to Ashes' by David Bowie.

"Not really."

"I do. You loved it. You were such a rebel back then."

I waited for the inevitable quip, and she didn't disappoint.

"What happened?"

"I grew up."

She pulled a face to indicate I was an idiot.

"You styled your hair into a quiff. You thought you were so cool."

"I was cool. If I remember, I wasn't the only one who thought so."

Abby folded her arms, leaned back against the wall, her eyes unfocused for a moment, as though she was thinking back. She smiled, almost fondly, if you can believe that.

"It's amazing how differently we see people when we're young," she said.

"We think the best of them."

"Yes."

"And then they disappoint."

She looked me in the eye. "They do."

The air suddenly felt thick and heavy, as though it had become a physical barrier, and if I tried to put my hand out, I would feel it, cold and dank against my fingers. Without me thinking, my hand reached out towards it, and her; I could see it happening but I didn't seem to have control over myself. Abby's mouth opened a little and she swallowed, her eyes on me all the time. I thought she was going to speak but she closed her mouth again, her lips in a thin, tight line. She shifted position, stood taller, her movement narrowing the gap between us. Then she did speak, her voice scratchy, as though her mouth was too dry to smooth the word's passage from her throat to her lips.

"Marcus…"

"Doctor Griffin! Can you come? Paul's been sick all over _everywhere_."

A childish voice broke through the fog that had enveloped us and for a split second neither of us moved, and then a small hand reached out to grab Abby's and pulled her away from me.

I watched as she disappeared into the crowd that had gathered around what was presumably the stricken Paul. I have no idea what she was about to say, or why she called me Marcus. We have a history together, but neither of us has ever talked about it. I can't imagine she'd want to start now, at a dance party on Factory Station. I felt queasy, my stomach churning and bile rising in my throat. Abby makes me feel a lot of things, but physically sick is not usually one of them. I looked at my half-empty cup, the second one I'd drunk that night. I put my nose in and inhaled deeply. It smelled sweet, but then I expected it to with all the artificial flavourings in it. I tasted it, rolled the liquid over my tongue and round my mouth. Before, when I was drinking it I didn't want to taste it, so I'd swallowed without really letting it touch my palate. Now I could detect the faintest touch of something sweet and yeasty. I went to the drinks table and tasted each of the drinks; they all had the same flavour. I beckoned a couple of my guards over.

"These drinks have been contaminated. Take them away."

The kids who were halfway through loading up their drinks were indignant and word soon spread that the ruse had been rumbled. I left my men to deal with them and looked for Abby. She'd had three or four of the drinks and I couldn't be sure what was in them without doing tests but I suspected a form of distilled ethanol and that could be poisonous.

Abby finally appeared back in the hall half an hour later. She was pale and had beads of sweat on her forehead.

"Ten kids have been sick and I threw up as well," she said. "They're in Medical. I've ordered tests but I suspect a virus. I don't feel well."

"It's not a virus. The punch was spiked."

She shook her head. "No. I checked that myself."

"And I've checked it _myself_ and I'm quite sure. You've been sick because you drank too much."

"What? No. That's impossible."

I sighed. "You're impossible. You had one job to do."

I thought she was going to get mad at me but her shoulders slumped and she looked resigned. "Shit. I dropped the ball."

"You were careless. You didn't taste the drinks properly."

"I did! I couldn't taste or smell anything alcoholic."

"Maybe there wasn't anything in it the first time, and the second time you expected it to be the same so you didn't notice. I thought you seemed brighter than usual when you came back from your round. They'd already dosed it by then."

"Who did it?"

"I don't know yet. I've ordered an investigation."

She looked at me, and started to smile, and then the smile became a laugh.

"It's not funny, Abby. Distilled ethanol can be lethal, you know that."

"I know." She was trying to stifle her laugh now but failing. "It's just. That this should happen when you're in charge, the Head of the Guard."

"You're drunk. I suggest you go home and sleep it off, let your minions deal with the chaos you've caused."

"They are. Jackson and Stevens are on duty in Medical. And hey! They're not my minions. Woah."

As I was watching, her body went slack and she slumped towards the ground. I managed to catch her before she hit the floor. She was a dead weight in my arms. I sank to my knees and lowered her carefully so her head was resting on me. She was breathing but she was unconscious. I stroked her face, whispering her name. A crowd had gathered and I shooed them away.

"Abby. Come on. Wake up."

After a couple of seconds that lasted half a lifetime, she blinked and opened her eyes properly, her pupils growing large when she saw my face staring down at her.

"What happened?" She struggled in my arms, trying to sit up and push me away.

"You fainted, I think. Take it easy!"

"How long was I out?"

"A few seconds."

"Then I'll be fine. Let me up, Kane."

Fighting a determined Abby is a waste of energy, so I loosened my grip and let her get up. She was still woozy but she refused my offer of an arm to lean on.

"Will you at least let me walk you to Medical? I'm not letting you go alone. You could faint again."

"I'll be fine. Oh, Jackson's here." She smiled as Jackson rushed over to her, pushing me out of the way and holding out his arm for her to hold. Of course, she took his offer of help.

I left them to it. There's no point staying where you're not wanted, and besides, there was a big mess to clean up, literally and figuratively. I called an official end to the dance and the janitors moved in to clean up the vomit and other detritus. When I looked over to where Abby had been, she had gone.

I had to pass Medical to get back to my quarters, so I put my head round the door to check on all the patients. Everything was quiet. Abby was asleep in the far bed, with Jackson sat next to her holding her hand. I don't know where Jake was. I left before Jackson spotted me. Now I'm going to get some sleep. It will be a big day tomorrow trying to find out who was responsible for this mess.


End file.
